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December 1, 2019
My upstairs neighbour is not long for the world. If heís not about to die physically then his mind is clearly on its last legs, as it were. He looks dreadful: sunken, sallow cheeks covered in a threadbare three-day thatch of canít-be-bothered beard; a severe stoop that would make his tall, skinny frame look like a battered bishopís crook were it not for his pot belly. Misted eyes that always seem to be lost in that mist... and he will not do what he promised, and complete paperwork to extend my lease. We will both die here.